He arrived at her doorstep steeped from the rain that now muffled his low, monotone apology. He began his emo striptease, hoping the last night's muzzy attempt to make out with her could be forgotten. When he was ready to cry, she was ready to discard their years of quiet friendship in exchange for his malnourished frame - pale and warm, irrevocably moist when undressed. His sweater, jeans, and tattered underwear remained in the same pile. When he redressed he swore he could smell his former self between the layers of must. "I'll buy flowers..." he muttered, but quickly toothed his lips.
by P. Colot July 23, 2004